Ikraam walked out of the room to see Lamis and another woman unloading the family’s trunks from a wheeled cart. He rushed over to help them, but the women were done before that.
“Thank you,” he told them.
Ikraam walked over to his trunk and lifted it up, turning to take it into the room he was using.
“You must let us help you with that!” Lamis exclaimed.
Ikraam shook his head. “It’s light and I am used to carrying things. I thank you for bringing it this far.”
“It’s a beautiful trunk,” Lamis said.
“It was my mother’s,” Ikraam said. “I treasure it.”
“Do you know whose trunks are the others?” Lamis asked.
Ikraam nodded. “I will help you carry them to the proper rooms,” he offered. “Just let me take mine to the room first.”
He knew his language sounded awkward, but he knew better than to claim anything as his own—Bahiyya took it then. He set his trunk down and went out to help the servants with the rest of them.
“You are very strong,” Lamis said when Ikraam picked up Bahiyya’s heavy trunk and carried it to her room.
“I’m just used to this,” he assured her.
He insisted on carrying Sabah’s trunks also. Lamis looked embarrassed he was doing all the work. At the same time, the second woman was setting out fresh fruit and carafes of iced water on a table, along with a strange machine.
“That is a coffee maker,” Lamis explained as Ikraam stared at it. “I will show you how it works.”
“You are very kind,” Ikraam said. “I will need to know, since Bahiyya enjoys a good cup of coffee.”
She laughed. “I can’t imagine living a life where there’s no electricity.”
“All the water you have is impressive,” Ikraam said. “And I have only heard of ice, I’d never thought I’d see it.”
Lamis and the other woman exchanged a look. Ikraam flushed, feeling awkward again. He was very aware the servants here were dressed better than he was. He had expected that, but to actually experience it was another matter. He stiffened his back a little. He was as good a person as they were, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been dressed like this most of his life.
“I keep to the harem,” Ikraam explained. “Bahiyya is very strict.”
“Do you need anything else?” Lamis asked.
Ikraam hesitated and then nodded. “The bathing area… there’s soap?”
He had the sudden need to scrub himself clean, wanting to hide from the world for a while.
“And shampoo,” Lamis said. “Let me show you.”
She walked to the bathing area, talking the entire time. “I know this is not what you are used to, so feel free to ask questions from me. I have been assigned to the harem for that.”
Ikraam guessed the raised seat was some sort of place where one relieved themselves, the lever on the side pulled or pushed to take away the waste. There was a large, empty tub and enormous shower. He had heard of such things and only had to figure out how to get the water out of the wall. There were also soaps and hair-care products, thankfully with pictures on them so he could guess at their contents.
“Here is the toilet,” Lamis said, pointing at the raised seat. “And the shower is the best way to clean up.”
Ikraam nodded, suddenly very aware of how much he smelled like a camel and old sweat.
“The tub takes forever to fill,” she continued, “and isn’t always worth the effort.”
Lamis walked over to the shower, lifting one of the bottles. It was blue and covered with flowers.
“Can you read?” she asked and then stammered, “I apologize. That was very rude of me. But—”
“I can’t read,” Ikraam admitted. “At least, not well.”
Bahiyya hadn’t thought he needed to learn how to read, like she had. Because of this, Ikraam had wavered between amusement and anger while growing up. None of his sisters were taught how to read either, so he wasn’t the only one Bahiyya had denied. However, now Ikraam wished he had been taught, because he was certain his intended knew how.
“I’m sorry,” Lamis repeated. “But this bottle has shampoo in it.” She put it down and picked up the bottle next to it, which was red with the same flowers on it. “This is conditioner. You put it on your hair after you wash it, to help detangle it.”
Lamis picked up a green bottle on a lower shelf. “This is body wash.”
“I thank you for the information,” Ikraam said, bowing a little.
“Please take care and call me if you need any help,” Lamis said. She paused and then added, “I came from a small village. I understand if al-Saʽd al-Maṭar is a little overwhelming.” She took a breath. “I don’t know Sheikh Fathi, but his grandfather is a good man. If you need to, go to him for help.”
Ikraam blinked, wondering what she was hinting at. Had Lamis figured out he was a man?
Lamis sighed. “I shouldn’t, but…. Your mistress isn’t pleasant. If you’re a hard worker, ask to stay. There is always room for a hard worker here.”
“I will think about that,” Ikraam promised.
He wasn’t surprised Lamis thought he was a servant also, with the way he was dressed. He wondered what Bahiyya had done to annoy this woman, but figured it wasn’t anything his sister hadn’t done before. She was overbearing and arrogant, which was why all of those who served in their tent preferred to talk to him or Sabah if there was any trouble.
“I will leave you to clean up now,” Lamis said. “And I hope you take my words to heart.”
“THAT could have gone better,” Fathi muttered.
Grandfather was in a foul mood, not that he blamed him from the way the initial meeting went. If this had been a business meeting he had arranged, he would have written this company off as a bad investment and never gotten back to them. In addition, he still had no idea who his betrothed was. Though she was probably in the same mess, since Grandfather hadn’t introduced either of the twins. Fathi sighed. An introduction would go a long way to putting his betrothed at ease. He wanted to talk to her, to start trying to make friends with her before they were married.
“I wonder which one Ikraam was?” he mused.
“I knew you would come around to this marriage!” Grandfather chortled.
“I was curious about that too,” Rayyan added. “It’s simple human nature to wonder.”
Grandfather glared at him in annoyance. “You are not helping.”
“We have three women and two men,” Fathi said, trying to logically organize what had happened. “One of the women must be my betrothed.” He wasn’t going to mention her name or Grandfather would resume crowing he had come around to his way of thinking. “One of the women might be Hashim’s wife, Bahiyya. So who are the other two?”
“The second man could be Hashim’s son, but if he was, I’d think he’d introduce him,” Rayyan said. “But Hashim seemed reluctant to even tell us his name, never mind those of his party.”
“Does it matter?” Grandfather demanded.
“Do you want to negotiate the rest of the contract with Hashim, only to find out the bride isn’t here?” Fathi asked.
Grandfather glared at him but nodded. “That will be something I ask in the morning.”
Fathi turned when he saw one of the servants hovering in the doorway.
“Amir, your guests are settled,” the woman announced as she bowed in the doorway. Fathi thought for a second and remembered her name, Lamis. She was the head housekeeper and had been overjoyed the wedding was being held here. He guessed she was a little annoyed all her hard work was being wasted with the small wedding party.
“Do they want for anything?” Grandfather asked. “They are happy with their quarters?”
Lamis hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding.
“Is there any trouble?” Fathi asked.
“I will make them comfortable and show them the hospitality of the amir,” she said.
“They aren’t used
to certain things—” Rayyan said.
Lamis’s silence was telling, and Fathi wondered what had gone wrong. Rayyan frowned and looked at Grandfather.
“Please speak your mind,” Grandfather coaxed. “I will not hold your honesty against you.”
“One woman is very rude,” Lamis said slowly, looking at Fathi apologetically. “But their servant is very polite. Your betrothed was silent the entire time I was there, but by her tone of voice when she spoke to the servant on the way to the harem, she seemed excited to be here.”
“How do you know she’s a servant?” Fathi asked.
Lamis’s tone was amused when she answered him. “The way she was dressed? And how she acted? The woman was brought along to help your bride dress for your joyous day. I can’t see the other one helping her sister. She would spend the time dressing herself and ignore her.”
“Thank you, Lamis,” Fathi said.
She bowed again and left the room. They looked at one another, and Grandfather shrugged.
“It is good there is someone to help your betrothed,” Grandfather said. “Maybe she could stay and keep your bride company. I know with your grandmother, it was easier when she had someone with her.”
“A buffer?” Rayyan asked. At the frown Grandfather shot him, he held up his hands. “I meant no disrespect, Grandfather. It must have been uncomfortable for the both of you.”
Grandfather sighed. “We were young.” He paused. “It was good to have someone to talk to, when we… I needed to smooth things out.”
“And while you were young, I am older and set in my ways,” Fathi said, lying a little. “It might be good to have someone to keep Ikraam company when I’m at work.”
“She would be used to having her family and tribe around her,” Rayyan added. “A friend will be good when things get to be overwhelming for her.” He paused. “And Grandfather, please remember Fathi and Ikraam are going to be making a lot of adjustments in their lives.”
Fathi was relieved Rayyan was handling Grandfather. If he had said the same thing, there would have been shouting. He wondered if Rayyan would be able to help him deal with Ikraam as well. He knew his faults, and dealing with women was one of them. He understood numbers and business deals much better.
“I will see what I can do,” Grandfather said with a smile. “There are terms of your marriage that still need to be worked out.” He laughed. “This is going to be fun.”
Fathi smiled, glad to see Grandfather vigorous and engaged. After his marriage, he might see if he could bring Grandfather back into the business. It was obvious he was bored with his retirement and needed something to do. He would start when Grandfather insisted he take time off for his honeymoon, and see what happened after that.
IKRAAM unbraided his hair after Lamis left, relieved it wasn’t as sandy as he thought it would be. He thought half of the desert was stuck in his braid. He hadn’t had a chance to brush it out since he had started traveling. Bahiyya had harried him from the beginning of the journey and while it had been nice not to think about how it would end, he was here now and didn’t know what he was going to do about the lie Bahiyya was telling his intended and his family.
Ikraam sat down in the middle of the bathing room suddenly. He wrapped his arms around his body, hugging himself because he wondered why he hadn’t run when he had first heard about this insanity. Bahiyya would have been glad to let him go, hoping the desert killed him. He was mad to think he should go through with this. What would his intended say when he saw how he had been tricked? He should go down to the amir and confess the whole plot to the prince. Yet if he did that, what would happen to Sabah? To the rest of Bahiyya’s children because of their mother’s spite? To the tribe with only Hashim ruling them?
Ikraam spent several minutes on the floor, hugging his knees as his panicked thoughts swirled through his head. He sat up eventually, knowing there wasn’t a thing he could do but try to protect Sabah. Her brothers could take care of themselves, and one of them probably could guide Hashim the way Bahiyya did. He looked up when Bahiyya entered the room.
“Having some last-minute thoughts?” Bahiyya demanded.
Ikraam noticed she had changed after her bath and was now wearing light indoor sandals and a red kaftan, with a filmy half veil. He nodded, not even knowing if he could speak. He wanted to run but felt pinned to the floor by her gaze. It was like his sister was some sort of desert snake to make him feel like this.
“Sabah will suffer for any of your foolishness,” she said, calmly walking over to stand over him. “Ghalib would be overjoyed to consummate the marriage early.”
“I understand,” Ikraam said. He knew what she was hinting at, even as his mind shied away from putting it into words.
“Get cleaned up,” Bahiyya ordered him. “We can’t have you looking less than your best now.” She paused and added sweetly, “Do you want me to show you what to do?”
Ikraam shook his head while getting up slowly. “Thank you for your kind offer, sister, but I understand what needs to be done.”
Bahiyya looked at him strangely for a second before striding out of the room. Ikraam noticed that Bahiyya walked like a man, expecting everyone to get out of her way.
Ikraam turned around and forced himself to study the shower. He turned on one tap slowly, not wanting to scald himself. He had chosen the cold-water tap and then used the other one to heat it up to a temperature he was comfortable with. He stepped into the spray, wallowing in the water until he was soaked. He then opened the shampoo and washed his waist-length hair. This was so much easier than bathing in a tub! He rinsed his hair and slathered the conditioner into it, then piled it up on his head so the conditioner wouldn’t wash out too soon. After standing with the hot water falling on his body for a few minutes, he started washing up.
Ikraam enjoyed whatever flower was used to scent the liquid soap and wondered where he could find more of it, he liked it so much. He rinsed off after a couple of minutes, reluctant to leave the water but not wanting to waste it.
Ikraam stepped out of the shower and used the towels to dry off. He used one on his hair, and wrapped a second one around his hips as soon as he was dried off. Ikraam felt sinful walking around like this. Usually as soon as he was dried off, or even before then, he was dressed and veiled, so no one would discover his secret.
He walked into his room and got a clean thawb out of his trunk while wondering what he would do with his dirty clothing. He only had a couple of outfits, unlike Bahiyya and Sabah. He would ask Lamis about it the next time he saw her.
The thawb Ikraam dressed in was a well-worn blue, its indigo dye faded to gray. Ikraam also grabbed a veil. He didn’t think he had to wear one, but Bahiyya might insist after they ate. Knowing his sister, she would try to make him eat with it on, as awkward as that could be, even if Hashim and Ghalib weren’t with them.
Chapter Seven
FATHI and Rayyan lingered over dessert in the living room. The place was cozy, with a couple of sofas and a coffee table. The table was doing its duty, covered by a silver coffee set and plates of different fruits and pastry. Grandfather had retired to his rooms.
“I want to talk to her,” Fathi blurted out.
Rayyan laughed and sat back. “And you are just going to march through the front door of the harem and demand to speak to your betrothed?”
“Ikraam,” Fathi reminded him.
“Ikraam, then,” Rayyan said with a satisfied smile. “So you’re going to walk in and demand to talk to her, violating the promise Grandfather made them about not having men in their space?”
Fathi frowned, playing with the food on his plate. “It’s not like they’ve been honest with us.”
“Grandfather isn’t going to accept that argument,” Rayyan said.
“I still want to talk to Ikraam, and I don’t think her sister’s going to like that,” Fathi said. “So I’m going to have to sneak in.”
“I noticed you said sister and not Hashim,” Rayyan pointed out.
>
“The man’s an idiot, and his ‘advisor’ is no help to him at all, or he would have managed to smooth over Hashim’s blunders with Grandfather during the introductions,” Fathi snapped. “I’m willing to believe she’s in charge of this negotiation, even if no one else can. I’m just wondering how she’s going to manage it. Unless Bahiyya’s going to break with tradition and insist on sitting in on the meetings?”
“That’s not going to matter if you’re caught in the harem,” Rayyan pointed out. “And how is Ikraam going to react to you popping up in the middle of the night?”
“It’s not that late,” Fathi protested. It was barely nine at night. He was usually just getting home at this time.
“No electricity, so I don’t think they’re used to staying up this late,” Rayyan said. “And they’ve been traveling hard from the look of their camels.”
“How do you know that?” Fathi asked. “I don’t think camel husbandry is a liberal arts elective where you went.”
Rayyan laughed. “No, but asking the stablemen Grandfather hired is usually a good way of getting information. They’re quite friendly when you bring them coffee and snacks.”
Fathi looked at him, wondering if coffee had become some sort of high-powered bribe and he never noticed it. It seemed to get Rayyan all the information he needed.
“Honestly, Fathi, I was just curious,” Rayyan protested under his gaze.
“You’re really good at getting information,” Fathi said with a smile. “I… I’ve forgotten that.”
“You came back from America and you were all grown-up,” Rayyan said, relaxing against the sofa. “Serious and thinking about nothing but the business. Grandfather piled the work on, and all you did was smile and ask for more.”
“Because that was better than thinking about what I couldn’t have,” Fathi admitted. “University was the only place I could be honest with myself. I like men. And I knew Grandfather wouldn’t accept that. So I married the job.”
The Secret of the Sheikh's Betrothed Page 7